


What you did to me

by Blackpaisley



Category: Lucifer (TV), Supernatural
Genre: F/F, F/M, LOTS OF CURSING FOR SURE THO, M/M, basically nothing yet, to be updated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackpaisley/pseuds/Blackpaisley
Summary: Scrolling mindlessly thorugh Twitter I saw a "imagine DeanCas as a Lucifer!Au" and then my mind started running wild.Premise 1: I'm no writer, I'm the furthest thing from a writer. this is the first time I'm writing anything DeanCas related. this is the first time I'm writing in 10 years, period. so be critical but kindPremise 2: no need to have watched the serie to understand but I'll try to not be repetitive. if something's not clear, feel free to askPremise 3: this is the preview of a preview. The first few scenes of a pilot episode. This is just an amuse-bouche to see if I could then produce something worth your while.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Meg Masters, Charlie/ various
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	What you did to me

**Author's Note:**

> So. Lucifer!Au. This is gonna be a kind of middle ground where I'll take inspiration from the show but then tweak it according to what the story needs and also the typical Supernatural characterization.
> 
> This work in un-betaed. If anyone wants to do it, let me know.
> 
> and let me know what you think!! should I keep going?

Los Angeles.  
“The city that never sleeps”.  
Wait, no. That’s Las Vegas. Ah, fuck this. In this age all the cities are the cities that never sleeps. Stress, alcohol, drugs, affairs, “just that one more bar”, that contract at work, kids, ugh, such mundane preoccupations, such futile things that fuck your brain so deeply you can’t even sleep which in return fucks your brain even more making you spin like a yoyo. A yoyo you brought on yourself, pal. Life can be good, life can be the fucking best if you know how to live it. Or most, importantly, where to live it.  
“Lux” is where the music is the loudest, the rivers of alcohols the tastiest, the men and the women the most beautiful of the city, night after night after night after night, early mornings if you are so lucky to catch the eye of the owner. And damn, that’s a wonderful pair of eyes to be caught by. Green, but no bullshit fan fiction green, they’re yes, green, but so much more too. They’re startling vivid in the low lights and fluorescent beams of the luxurious bar, rather stunning if I can say so (and trust me, I can) and almost feline when paired with that smirk. Impossible to resist. But I created him so, the most beautiful creature, the fiercest angel, my beloved rebellious son and although I had to kick him out, you know, to make an example out of him, he’s my greatest pride. Sure, he fucks up and there are things I wish I could unsee, but, meh, humans do much worse and I forgave them. Hey, don’t judge: being a mom and the creator of everything is no small task. I fuck up too. So, shut up!  
Dean is truly living his best life, he thrives in a place like LA, lost souls in search of the big break or that small thing that will make them known to anyone. Because in the end, that’s all what people want: be remembered, be the answer/question, I don’t know (never got that show), on Jeopardy, be the subject of envious looks and even meaner gossips. If you have haters, then you made it. And shit like that. “But good people exist!!”. Mmh, jury still out on that. Maybe, maybe, few souls in the all the eons the Earth has been created. The first person to ever make bread? Certainly a good soul. Mark Zuckerberg? He will sooner or later meet my boy. Oh, yes, for all of you who didn’t catch up on it, yes, Dean is the Devil, Lucifer, the morning star, Beelzebub, lord and ruler of all that’s bad and evil, Satan, however you wanna call him. As a matter of fact, don’t call him any of that, the whole kicked-out-of-Paradise-to-Hell is still a touchy subject. But he’ll come around. I hope.  
You see, the guy has iron will, stubbornness for days and a smart mind. Which makes a very infuriating adolescent angel but a wonderful business man. That’s what he basically is, a business man: he can realize your deepest desires but than you owe him a favor, which could be anything from a quickie on a lazy Sunday afternoon (as I said, many things I wish to unsee) to apparently drop your cocaine habit…  
“Donna, you owe me one. Remember?” said Dean taking the two glasses from the server, shooting the Caribbean guy a wink while they sat down.  
“I know, I know, I’ll promise to be good.” The blonde said gulping the whiskey.  
“Hun, if you were good, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place” Dean smiled sardonically. He liked her. She was a small girl from Minnesota with frizzy hair and a thick accent but the most beautiful voice. He couldn’t not help her. And now look at her, world-wide famous, huge fanbase and the cliched comeback after a rehab. So LA.  
“The Devil made me do it.” She winked calling for another drink.  
“Nuh-uh. The devil always asks for consent.”  
“Ah, yes. How could I forget! That whole devil schtick- she slowly started to drag a finger across his chest- Maybe this time you can show me the horns and the tail.”  
Donna’s face was now few inches away from Dean. He could smell the alcohol, the sweat, her perfume and the minty aroma of her cough drops. He must have been at her recording studio.  
“Talk to me about the song you recorded this afternoon, dear.” Dean leaned away sitting in the plush leather couch.  
“Ah, you’re no fun.” She pouted.  
“I’m plenty fun. But after that time you made me promise to not ever let it happen again. And you know I don’t break my promises.”  
“Such a stickler for the rules.- she booed him and put her heeled feet on his legs- Well, about the new album, there was something I wanted to talk you ab-”  
Dean startled. He just registered the people screaming and running but couldn’t pin point what was happening. Donna seemed to have put her head on the backrest on the couch. But the dark sludge in her hair and on the silver sequins on her dress told a different story.  
Could be a supernatural being in shock? That’s what it is, right?  
The gleam of a red light in the upper booths near the exit caught his eyes. No red lights in his club, too close to home.  
“That fucker.” He slowly put Donna’s legs on the couch and stood up. That fucker would pay for what he did to Donna and what better person to administer the punishment.  
Dean took the stair two at a time, while the hooded figure went for the main exit, like all the others. But while the other patrons stopped short outside to call for help, the piece of shit went for the intersection.  
It was 3 am. The streets were fairly calm, the club uproar fading in the background, Dean’s Prada shoes, the shooters sneakers and the bag with the rifle banging on his legs the only sounds.  
The man quickly checked behind his back and then saw the demonic, forged by millennia in Hell fury painted on the devil’s features and he quickened his pace, crossing the street without checking it first. Without seeing the car that was coming.  
The impact was instant, the driver went out of the cubicle screaming for help while scrambling for his phone. Dean calmly squatted next to that piece of human garbage.  
“Why the fuck did you shoot her?” and if glares could kill he’d already be 6 feet under. Not that he was THAT far.  
“What? I don’t give a shit about her- he slurred- Good God, call an ambulance.” The shooter said, while the blood pool around him grew.  
“First of all, she’s far from good. And if I remember well from that weekend with the bendy med student, you are far from salvageable.” Dean came closer as the guy breath became more erratic and shallow. He was running out of time and he needed to know. “Now, tell me why you shot Donna or I’m gonna make your permanence in Hell even worse than it should be” he seethed.  
“I don’t really know - he started coughing blood- I was paid. I seriously don’t know.” Blood continued to flow  
“Who paid?” Dean was about to punch the answer out of him when with a last wet cough he died.  
Dean rose up and, looking at sky, said “Yeah, you definitely did a bang up job, mum. I’m sure these waste of oxygen were worth it” brushing his hands on his black suit.  
Only then he noticed the driver still screaming now at a paramedic, all the sirens and strong lights and now there were hands on his arms.  
“Dude, I leave you alone ONE night. What the fuck has happened?” Charlie asked him.  
But he had just one thought: Donna. Donna. He left her alone. And that’s not how friends behave.  
“I have to go back to Donna.” He started walking back to the club.  
“Donna? How does Donna fit in all of this? DEAN? DEAN!!” but the demon’s voice was getting further and further.  
He needed to go back to his friend. Donna needed him to be with her.  
And that’s how the paramedics and CSI guys founded him: cradling Donna’s body and petting her hair.  
He shouldn’t have left her alone.  
He shouldn’t have.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, no blue-eyed hottie yet. but he'll soon be here in detective clothes. A detective with quite the backstory and life, to be fair.
> 
> but, aaah, not bad? bad? let me know c:


End file.
